


An Evening Ceremony

by christinefromsherwood



Series: 007 Fest 2020 [30]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Bond is a good boyfriend, Domesticity, Established Relationship, Fluff and Humor, M/M, but actually also very quiet and calm, ranting turned into a nice evening in, some ranting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:41:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25551475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/christinefromsherwood/pseuds/christinefromsherwood
Summary: After a hellish day in the office, Q feels compelled to express his opinion about the (fairly) recent "international conflict" on what is and isn't proper tea.
Relationships: James Bond/Q
Series: 007 Fest 2020 [30]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1809718
Comments: 19
Kudos: 49
Collections: 007 Fest Fancreations





	An Evening Ceremony

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nana_41175](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nana_41175/gifts), [SaberK](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaberK/gifts).



> written for the Collab Prompt Table and for **Nana** and **Ki**
> 
> Ki wanted: _Domesticity_
> 
> Nana asked for: _Q's addressing the sacrilege that is cold water+ lemonade powder, cinnamon, cloves, sugar + Tang+ tea bag + microwave = BRITISH TEA?? (Bonus points if you can get Bond to comment on the US Ambassador to the UK's take on making American coffee), ehehehe. For reference,[here's the article](https://www.theguardian.com/food/2020/jun/24/us-woman-sparks-transatlantic-tea-war-with-brutal-online-brew) on the Great Transatlantic Row sparked by that hot tea debacle._
> 
> Can also be read as a sequel to [The Two Reasons for M's Lack of Hair](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23770543)

That day, James knew to have the Gong Fu tea set out on the coffee table, before he heard Q’s keys in the lock. 

If _he_ got an email about it from Eve and Bill _and M_ , he couldn’t even begin to imagine the avalanche of messages Q must have had to deal with.

Candles, too, sensed something was wrong, because she kept pacing up and down the hall, waiting for her human. James sympathized. 

Finally, Q was striding through the door, throwing his jacket and facemask on the armchair and scooping Candles up off the floor. He flung himself onto the sofa and groaned.

“That bad, huh?” James hummed as he went to join him. 

“They kept asking me,” Q replied in a tight voice, giving Candles a thorough ear massage. “ _Everyone_ kept asking me. The whole day.”

“I thought they might,” James sighed. “What do you feel like today?”

“Oh I don’t know if I can even look at a cup of tea, James!” Q wailed, startling the cat, who jumped off his lap and went to sulk in the cat tree. 

James nodded. “Fair enough.”

Q rose and padded tiredly to the bathroom. He sunk back right next to James when he returned and they sat together in silence for a while. Then with a frustrated snort, Q leaned against his shoulder and James slowly felt him consciously relax his muscles. He pressed a kiss against his hair and waited.

“Actually, you know what?” Q began. “If you could put the kettle on for the new PuErh?” 

James grinned proudly. “I thought you might want to open your birthday present early, so I looked up the brewing temperature.”

Beaming, Q leaned away to let him rise. “You did?”

“95 degrees,” James called from the doorway. He grabbed the round, flat packet from their tea cupboard and their kettle, before doubling back and rummaging for a small knife too. “You’ll have to cut into the thing yourself, darling. I don’t want to ruin it.”

And he didn’t. There was one hundred and twenty pounds worth of tea in there. James had felt vaguely guilty before, letting it sit in the cupboard next to his own favourite Lipton. The eyes of the sloth on the packaging had seemed very reproachful.

He gladly deposited the package into Q’s grabby hands, and switched on the kettle. Q grinned at the sloth, before flipping it over to get at the opening. 

Sweet, tea scent filled the room. Q sighed. 

“Oh, this is beautiful!” He was grinning from ear to ear, as he raised the tea cake to his face and inhaled again, letting out a fairly pornographic moan. “Cherries and sandalwood! And something a bit salty. So lovely.”

James suppressed a pleased grin, proud of his gift-picking skills. 

Still, Q’s face darkened again as he took up the knife and began digging into the pressed leaves. 

“Want to talk about it?” James offered. 

Q shrugged his shoulders. 

“I think it was M that got to me the most? ‘I trust you will refrain from making a comment, public or otherwise, Quartermaster. I know you feel passionate about the topic but we must not rock the boat in these uncertain times.’ Uncertain times. For fuck’s sake! ‘Many of our employees look up to us and now more than ever it is pertinent to be careful of that responsibility.’ Who does he think he is? Quoting Spiderman at me! Am I a child? I’ve been working there for ten years, does he think I’m just suddenly going to get up on my desk and announce to the whole of MI6 that they can take their precious British tea and stick it up their arse?”

James refrained from saying that on one memorable occasion Q had, in fact, done just that. But he’d been drunk at the time and it was in Eve’s living room, so he did in essence agree with Q.

“Just the nerve of them all! Getting so up in arms about whatever unholy concoction this _Michelle_ decided to call tea! Who the fuck cares? It’s not like they have a leg to stand on with their shitty tea bags and boiling water! Do you know what’s inside tea bags?”

James knew what was inside tea bags. He’d heard Q expound on the contents of tea bags many, many times. 

“Tea dust and secondary leaves and twigs and the sweepings of the factory floor, all mulched together,” he answered on cue. 

“Exactly!” Q agreed, throwing up his arms. “And then comes the crowning glory! You’re supposed to pour boiling hot water over the thing, let it sit for ages, so all the tannins fly out of that _dust_ and you’re left with a dark, bitter abomination that you’re so desperate to improve, you’ll add sugar, milk, lemon, _anything_ , just to make it palatable. Hmmm, _yummy_.” He scoffed.

This, again, was nothing new. James himself drank this “abomination” every morning. He liked and was used to his Lipton and wasn’t that fussed, even if he enjoyed getting to taste Q’s more sophisticated creations from time to time. 

He nodded. Apparently, the internet was up in arms about this Michelle from TikTok, and Ambassadors were getting involved. He’d heard people discussing it in corridors; some having a laugh at the silliness, some genuinely indignant. 

James sighed. They all must have driven Q mad the entire day, asking for his opinion as the resident tea lover and expert. 

“Self-important arseholes,” Q grumbled and James gave a nod. 

“Ambassador Johnson had the right idea with the instant coffee. Gross but effective,” he said, giving Q a slow grin. 

“The most elegant way to tell so many people to fuck off I’ve ever seen.” Q nodded.

“I suppose that’s why he’s the diplomat.”

Just then, the tea kettle beeped. Q jumped up to fetch it, and James went to coax Candles to join them back on the sofa. She was mollified with a few chin scratches, allowing herself to be picked up and carried away from the place of her brooding repose.

Q rinsed the tea, reset the kettle and went to smell the lid. 

“Oh,” he exclaimed, closing his eyes in pleasure. (It was a very good look on him.) “The cherries are even stronger like this!” He thrust the lid at James, who dutifully inhaled a couple of times before nodding. 

“What do you think?”

It _did_ smell sweet and a little woody. A little like Q when he just got out of the shower and curled up next to him in bed.

“Like raindrops on roses and all of my favourite things,” James answered awkwardly. Q went to take another sniff. 

“You’re right! I am getting a hint of rose!” 

James nodded as though that was exactly what he’d meant. Candles in his arms stretched her neck and made a valiant effort to see what the fuss was about. 

“Oh no, you don’t, darling,” Q teased, booping her nose. 

“There was nothing about cat hair making a pleasant addition on the website, love,” James informed their cat, who decided to nibble on his thumb in retaliation.

The kettle beeped again and Q prepared the first infusion of the evening. 

“Anything you feel like watching?” James asked. Q shook his head, handing him a tiny cup and leaning against his arm.

“I want to sit and drink tea and listen to how your assistant tortured you with paperwork today.”

James smiled, extricated his thumb from Candle’s clutches, and obliged: “Oh, she’s terrible, Q. She found typos in four of the forms I’d submitted, and made me redo them.”

Q, who was just about to pour his own cup, paused, raising an eyebrow. “She _made_ you?”

James shrugged. “Well, she looked so judgy, I went and said I’d do it.”

Twisting on his lap, Candles kicked out her legs and James hurriedly went to take a sip of his tea before she could dislodge it. 

It tasted rather nice. 

James settled into the sofa and drew Q closer to him. He was making little slurping sounds and smacking his lips appreciatively after each sip, as he always did with the first cup.

(Early in their relationship, James had gently requested he drink like a normal person. That had been... something. Now they compromised.)

“This is so delicious, James!” he sighed. “I really needed this, you know.”

James tried not to preen too visibly, as Q leaned over to press a kiss against his jaw. Candles began to purr and knead his stomach.

The website recommended ten infusions, and it was Friday evening. 

They had the time. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed. 😁
> 
> (If you feel offended, or tempted to yell at me about my wrong tea opinions in the comments, stay your hand :D I absolutely, genuinely do not care how you take your tea, coffee or martini. Really, truly do not. The opinions expressed herein are of Q, who--if he were a hardcore "teahead"--would, imao, turn his nose up at all tea bags and the common ways of preparing tea.)


End file.
